


What's a Little Decapitation between Friends?

by ratcobbler



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Trans Tomoe, just murder enthusiasts being bros, suck it fromsoft, the timeline is vague and confusing but let's say Isshin is 45 and Tomoe is like 35, there is literally nothing in canon contradicting that Tomoe was a trans woman, they kiss later but i refuse to acknowledge this, they're both bi i bet, vagueness about lore cuts both ways fuckers, various references to people getting chopped up with swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22454962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratcobbler/pseuds/ratcobbler
Summary: Blue murder lady finds herself unable to hate man composed entirely of scar tissue.
Relationships: Isshin Ashina/Tomoe
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm assuming for my own purposes that Tomoe and Lord Takeru had a similar dynamic as Kuro and Wolf but Tomoe was maybe less deeply traumatized

Supposedly, Isshin Ashina had made this country. Tomoe found herself somewhat skeptical. Individuals didn’t make countries. Sometimes, they were convenient figureheads for movements. More frequently, they took credit for battles where a thousand samurai who had homes and lives and dreams died choking on their own blood. “It was Isshin Ashina’s brilliant swordsmanship that won the day!” people would say. The deaths would be an afterthought, a brief downturn of the head in acknowledgement of an utterly pointless slaughter. Maybe a muttered prayer if the departed were very lucky. 

Tomoe had killed a lot of men. Almost, but not quite all, men. She couldn’t get around that. Most of the deaths had been to defend Lord Takeru, which she liked to think made it worth something. Lord Takeru was still alive, which she considered an objective good.

In her defense, a lot of men had killed her too. 

And, fair was fair. Isshin Ashina _was_ a brilliant swordsman. She’d seen him fight, once, from a distance. It hadn’t been elegant, but it hadn’t been berserk rage either. She’d fought a lot of men who subscribed to one school or the other. The elegant ones were all flowing water and sakura petals or some such bullshit right up until they ate a lightning bolt. The berserk ones were harder, usually. Sometimes they needed two lightning bolts. 

She used to think the lightning bolts were unfair. Your average human samurai couldn’t summon divine fire from the sky to root a man to the spot until he convulsed himself to death. Now she just worried about collateral damage. And the smell. She was concerned she was starting to enjoy the smell.

But. Isshin Ashina. He wasn’t elegant or berserk. He was simply very, very efficient. He would put his feet and sword exactly where they needed to be to make you dead. It made sense for a style, which, she had heard, he had improvised as he was “taking back” Ashina. For the people, she had also heard. As far as she knew, “the people” were still toiling away in rice fields while the Ashina nobles sat in their castle doing…whatever it was Ashina nobles did. Hitting each other with wooden swords? Drinking?

Honestly, both of those things appealed to Tomoe. She hadn’t had decent sake in months, or a training partner who could withstand her for longer than a couple minutes. Lord Takeru was lovely company, but he was also twelve.  
“Enter!” roared a voice from the other side of the door. Tomoe realized she had been poised to knock for the past six minutes, and her fist had drifted close enough to the door to gently rap against it. She was surprised anyone had heard. She blinked, put on her Talking to Nobles Face, and entered.

The room was smaller and emptier than she’d imagined. There were no guards or attendants. It looked like a bedchamber more than anything else. Which couldn’t be right. Isshin Ashina was reclining on a tatami and there was a bottle of something on the floor in front of him, and two cups. Tomoe immediately knelt before him, averting her eyes.  
“My lord,” she said.  
“Blue, eh? So the stories were true.”  
Ah. One of those. She preferred the ones who outright commented on her appearance than the ones who thought they were subtle. In any case, her skin was only the second-most obnoxious thing he could remark on.  
“Yes, my lord. My mother was-”  
“An okami warrior, yes! So I’ve heard, so I’ve heard. You can look up, incidentally. There’s nothing interesting on the floor.”  
Tomoe looked at him. Isshin Ashina looked much like she’d heard. Covered in scars, one eye, piercing stare, all that. He wore his robe slightly but not indecently open, showing off more scars. Was there any part of him that wasn’t scarred?  
“Do you drink sake, Lady Tomoe?”  
“My lord, I am a commoner, and deserve no such honorific.”  
“Hrm. My mistake. But you did not answer my question.”  
“My lord?”  
“Sake! Do you drink it?”  
“My lord, I wouldn’t dare-”  
“Oh, shut up with the ‘my lord’ nonsense. I know you don’t believe it, so do try not to insult both of us.”  
“My l-”  
Isshin sat up suddenly, and thumped the tatami with a fist. Tomoe’s hand went instinctively to her sword, which she realized too late she had left outside.  
“Oh-ho! That’s more like it! The first genuine reaction you’ve had since walking in.”  
Tomoe was silent.  
“Lady Tomoe, I am not a fool. Do not treat me like one, and we may actually get along. You know as well as I do that once you’ve killed as much as we have, men are simple to read. Women, as well, typically. Everyone, really.”  
“That is true,” Tomoe hazarded.  
“You hate the nobility. You have been suppressing an urge to throttle me since you walked into my chambers.”  
Tomoe elected to remain very still.  
“Don’t be scared, woman! I don’t take it personally.”  
“I’m not scared,” she said, finally.  
“No, no, of course not. Unkillable, I’m told.”  
Tomoe nodded, then said something profoundly stupid.  
“If I were mortal, I still wouldn’t be scared.”  
That made Isshin Ashina sit up further.  
“Oh?” he said.  
“Forgive me, my l-”  
“If you call me ‘my lord’ once more, we will be testing how killable you are.”  
Tomoe stared him directly in the eye.  
“If I could die by conventional means, I would not be afraid of you.”  
He stared right back.  
“You mean that,” he said.  
“I do.”  
Isshin Ashina held her gaze for a full thirty seconds, then thumped the tatami again.  
“Wonderful! Now if you would answer my question.”  
“Pardon?”  
“Do you. Drink. Sake.”  
“Yes.”  
“Then we will drink together!”  
Before she could object, he poured two cups, handed her one – which she took, mutely – clinked the cups, and downed his.

Well. It had been a while since she’d had good sake. She drank, then blinked, slowly. 

This was not good sake. 

Isshin Ashina threw back his head and laughed. 

“And you can drink! To think Lord Takeru has been hoarding such a prize all to himself.”  
Tomoe considered a circumspect way to compliment the sake that wasn’t a direct lie.  
“You drink shit sake,” she found herself saying.  
He laughed harder.  
“Yes! The point is to be drunk, no?”  
“Sometimes the point is to enjoy something about the process.”  
“I enjoyed the look on your face when you realized you weren’t drinking Dragonspring.”  
“ _Did_ you?”  
“I did, in fact.”  
Tomoe reached over to the bottle, poured herself a cup, and threw it back, staring Isshin in the eyes the entire time. He raised his eyebrows, then poured her another. Instead, she reached over, took the bottle, and gulped it down. Then, she slammed it on the floor, and wiped her mouth. 

Isshin grinned at her.  
“Lady Tomoe, I may have to break out the Dragonspring after all.”

\--o--

Tomoe could not recall having been this drunk in quite some time. Bodyguarding was not a job with a lot of leisure time. Lord Takeru had other minders, but she got antsy when she was off-duty. When they’d arrived at this awful pile of rocks and precipitous roofing, the knowledge that Lord Takeru had an entire castle guard watching out for him had allowed her to relax for sometimes hours at a time. It had been the only pleasant thing about it. 

She had thought, initially, that it was the only pleasant thing about it. 

She was beginning to irritably suspect Isshin Ashina was her friend. The suspicion made her even more determined to outdrink him.  
“Lady Tomoe,” he said.  
“Yeah?” she said. She was sitting up against the wall, flanked on both sides by empty sake bottles.  
“How does it work?”  
“How’s what work?”  
“Your immortality.”  
“I don’t die.” She rolled her eyes.  
“Of course you don’t die. I am not a fool.”  
Tomoe raised her eyebrows.  
“Uh-huh.”  
Isshin thumped the floor. She’d stopped reacting to that an hour ago.  
“Woman!”  
“Asshole!”  
He drank a cup, then turned to her again.  
“Your Lord Takeru, he cannot be cut. His body is invulnerable.”  
Tomoe’s hand went to where her sword should have been.  
“I don’t intend him harm! My point is, you can be.”  
“Sure,” she said, still tense.  
“And what if I cut off your head? I asked around, I know that’s possible.”  
“It falls off. Then it reattaches itself.”  
“On its own?”  
“Yeah, basically.”  
“How?”  
“I dunno. Just does.”  
“Are you not curious?”  
“Nnnnnope.”  
“Well, I am.”  
This was all very confusing. Tomoe had gotten a lot of reactions to her condition, from reverence to the soft gurgle of someone who had turned their back on what they thought was a corpse only to find a sword in their neck. No one asked questions.  
“Good for you,” she said.  
“Lady Tomoe-”  
“Why do you keep calling me that?”  
“Because it irritates you, of course.”  
“Is that your normal attitude towards immortal creatures who could kill you without a second thought?”  
“Hmph. You could try, certainly. And you would find yourself chopped to pieces and each piece given to a samurai riding on horseback in a different direction.”  
Tomoe sat up. She really didn’t know what would happen if you dismembered her. Nothing good, presumably. Would she be aware? Would she just be dead? She nodded, slowly.  
“Interesting,” she said. Then she coughed. She could let the conversation drift from here. The way he drew out “Lady” probably didn’t mean anything. It almost certainly didn’t mean the thing she thought it did. He probably couldn’t tell.

But the thing he’d said earlier about reading people stuck in her head. Ugh. Why did she even care what this drunken lord thought? Because he could use a sword? Lots of people could use a sword. 

Hardly anyone was confident they could kill her, though. She hated to admit it (she did not hate to admit it), but she had a reputation. He knew about her. He’d _researched_ her. The thought should have made her feel gross, but she just felt proud.

All the same. He knew about her, and he was still confident he could kill her if he needed to. She wasn’t totally sure he was wrong, either. She couldn’t pretend that didn’t fascinate her.  
“Yeah but. ‘Lady.’ Why do you say it like that?”  
“Because you hate people like me. It entertains me to imply you are one.”  
“…really?”  
“Yes.”  
“‘zat it?”  
He tilted his head.  
“Yes?”  
“Oh.”  
“Should there be something else?”  
Huh. So his ability to read people didn’t go that far. Outside his area of expertise, she guessed. Well, time to move on.  
“No,” she said.  
“Liar.”  
Oops. His ability to read people didn’t go that far until she’d been totally fucking obvious about it. She poured herself another cup of sake to distract from the topic. When she finished drinking it, he was still staring evenly at her.  
“Lady Tomoe,” he said. “I can’t stand the thought you might be even more interesting than I imagined.”  
“Ugh,” she said. “And if I told you I didn’t want to talk about it?”  
“Then I would respect your wishes, my lady.”  
He bowed mockingly, hands on his knees. God. He literally didn’t get it at all. She was honestly kind of impressed. Well. Fuck it.  
“Ugh,” she said again. “You know anything about how Fountainhead nobles raise their kids?”  
“No,” he said, and leaned forward.  
“Ughhhhhh,” she said. “Well. Women are raised to be warriors. It’s grunt work, usually, although there’s prestige involved if you’re very good at it. My mother wasn’t any good, and the whole thing disgusted her. Corruption, rigid caste system, giant carp gods, cannibalism, et cetera. I won’t bore you.”  
“I don’t believe you could.”  
“She left, found a man. A human. Guess he had a thing for blue. Or long necks. Whatever. I didn’t know him.”  
Isshin nodded.  
“Well, see, boys in Fountainhead are raised to be nobles. Wear a lot of flowing robes, play the flute, suck people’s lifeforce out through their pores. Normal stuff, you know. If you’re really good at it, you get to feed the carp or live in a pot.”  
Isshin nodded again. Tomoe couldn’t shake the idea that he was mentally scribbling notes.  
“My mother, she didn’t like how any of that worked, but she didn’t know anything else. She saw how boys were raised in Ashina, and she didn’t like that either. So she did her best.”  
Tomoe drank again. Gods, she was really trashed.  
“She did her best,” she said again. “Taught me how to play the flute. Sewed a whole stupid wardrobe of flowy shit. I didn’t touch a sword until I was thirteen. Stole it off a dead samurai. He was-”  
She cut herself off. She was rambling. Isshin looked like gears were turning in his head.  
“Oh,” he said finally. “That’s not interesting in the least.”  
“Huh?”  
“I thought you were hiding something I might care about.”  
“You- huh?”  
“Are you too drunk to understand me? Perhaps you can’t hold your liquor after all.”  
Tomoe reached for her bottle, found it empty, reached for another, found it empty as well, then reached for Isshin’s. He held it out of her reach and she pushed herself up, grabbed his arm, and grasped for the bottle. He rolled, still holding it away. She kicked him squarely in the torso, then froze. 

She had just attacked the lord of the castle. Lord Takeru might be held responsible for her crime. She could kill Isshin, kill the guards outside, but then what? Would it be better to take Lord Takeru? Or run by herself and pretend it had nothing to do with him? She was so stupid-

Isshin punched her in the face and she staggered back against the wall.  
“Pathetic!” he said. “You give up too easily!”  
“Gimme the bottle,” she said. “You’re lucky I wasn’t fighting seriously.”  
“Hmph,” he said, and took another drink before tossing it to her. “I am magnanimous in victory.” She caught it, spilling some on herself, and glared.  
“Do you have anything actually of interest to say?” he asked.  
“Guess not,” she said. “Wanna try cutting my head off?”  
“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am a twenty-six-year-old homosexual who has just written her first fic and it is inexplicably kind of het
> 
> i am deeply ashamed


	2. So It Turns out Being Struck by Lightning Is Kinda Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When two unkillable murder machines are put into the same room together, they either explode into fine red mist or they get drunk."
> 
> -AO3 user Kirity, on the previous chapter
> 
> it's fine red mist time baby!!!

Gods, he was annoying.   
“Have you thought about dying?” Tomoe screamed, over the clash of swords.  
“Many times, Lady Tomoe! I’d prefer to avoid it.”  
She leapt, five feet into the air. It was one of the numerous advantages she had over humans. She was lighter, and her legs were much better designed for that sort of thing. People didn’t usually expect the blows to suddenly start coming from above.

Isshin did. He ducked under her, and as she tried to turn, kicked her in the back. She hit the dirt shoulder-first, rolled, and sprang back up. She spat, then went for an obvious thrust, turning into a low angled sweep at the last moment. He didn’t react to her thrust, and stepped backwards from the sweep. A two-handd grip on his sword, he swung down with a chop that rattled her bones to block. She prepared to counterattack, when he repeated the chop. 

She stepped out of the way just in time. Isshin laughed.  
“Lady Tomoe! This can’t be-”  
“Shut UP!”  
He kept laughing.   
“Have I frustrated you?”  
“No! Stop trying so hard, you’re embarrassing yourself!”  
“Oh? Is this not your full capability?”  
It absolutely was, and he knew that. She suspected it was his, too.  
“Of course not!” she said, spittle flying from her lips. “I’m playing with you!”  
“Play away, then, my lady.”  
He spread his arms, exposing every single vulnerable point on his body. Which meant nothing, obviously. If she tried anything he’d be in defensive position again before she’d even finished her thought. She circled him, instead, not letting her sword drop. 

His was a normal katana, hers was blunted.   
“I could break your bones with this,” she’d warned him, before their first bout.  
“You could try,” he’d said, like he wanted her to.  
He’d only killed her twice, three times if you counted the first decapitation, which hadn’t been a fair fight. He counted it, though, because it made her mad every time he did.  
“A victory is a victory! In war, there are no rules, only a dead opponent.”  
“Do I look dead to you?” she’d asked.  
“Not yet,” he’d said, and swung at her legs.   
He’d learned not to do that irritatingly quickly. She’d just jumped over it and rained blows down on him. Which he hadn’t been there to be hit by. Ugh.

That was his only trick! He just wasn’t where he was supposed to be, and then his sword was where it was supposed to be and then your liver was eight feet away from where it was supposed to be. He was the worst. 

Anyway, this was all a formality. If she ever did need to kill him, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about lightning bolts. But it did rankle she couldn’t beat him in a straight fight. 

A flash of movement, and then his sword was inches away from her neck, hers barely superimposed between steel and flesh.  
“Caught you napping!”  
“I blocked you, idiot!”  
She pushed him off her and went on the offensive again.

This was their fourth bout since they’d met. The first had ended in a draw, the second in her disarming him and then him punching her so hard she was blind for an hour, which she was pretty sure was her victory, but he insisted on calling another draw. The third, he’d killed her twice. Each time they’d gone back to his rooms and drank until he passed out, and she could barely walk. She always won those contests, at least. Okami didn’t really process alcohol the same way humans did, so if you split the difference between that and her being about a hundred and thirty pounds, she basically drank like a three-hundred pound alcoholic. 

The number of times she’d woken on the floor next to Isshin Ashina, Lord of Ashina Castle, ruler of the land of Ashina, to find him snoring, only to quietly excuse herself back to her chambers, was becoming notable. Once, she’d looked at his face for a second, maybe two, longer than was strictly necessary. It was peaceful, soft under all the scar tissue. She wondered if he ever had nightmares. For some reason, she thought not. 

She’d left quickly after that, and had declined to consider the matter further. 

Currently, she was considering the matter that Isshin needed her sword jammed between his teeth and pushed until it came out the other side of his head, bluntness be damned.  
“Feeling frustrated, Lady Tomoe?”  
“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!”   
“Shouldn’t you be done toying with me?”   
“AAAAAAAAHHH! AGH! I hate you!”  
Her sword pounded his. He wasn’t even bothering to attack her. He was just blocking. And smiling.   
“Get! Dead!”  
He counterattacked.  
“Try! Harder!”  
“If I tried any harder you’d be dead!”  
“So you say!”  
“You can’t blunt lightning, idiot!”  
“Can’t I?”  
Tomoe landed from a frankly unnecessary leap.  
“…what?”  
“I’m so glad we’ve finally arrived on the topic. When were you planning on throwing lightning at me?”  
Tomoe panted.  
“It’s…a clear…day.”  
“And? I know the weather doesn’t matter to you. Don’t lie to me, Lady Tomoe.”  
That had been weak, she knew. She couldn’t lie to him unless she was trying really hard.  
“Okay…say I can…summon it. Then you die. Then I’ve…killed Isshin Ashina. I get exe…cuted. Gods.”  
“Only if I die.”  
She caught her breath, finally.  
“Most people die! If they don’t, they’re injured for life.”  
“I won’t die.”  
The hubris astonished her. She wanted to beat it out of him.  
“Gods, you are stupid.”  
“Perhaps! But I’ve studied accounts of your lightning. Spoken with survivors. You have a weakness. One you are too arrogant to discover.”  
“Wha- you- you studied me?”  
“Lady Tomoe. I rule a country that was forged in blood less than a decade ago. In my country lives a woman who can call upon a power so overwhelming and destructive she can kill anyone she chooses. She is, to my knowledge, very difficult, if not impossible, to kill. For the moment, she serves one of my vassals. For the moment. Because I am a very lucky man, she seems loyal beyond reason to this vassal, who himself has no reason to betray me. Largely because he is twelve.”  
Tomoe tried to lean on her sword without making it obvious that was what she was doing.   
“I would be a fool not to know everything about your capabilities. And not to have developed a countermeasure.”  
Tomoe blinked. She stayed perfectly still. She was concerned if she didn’t, she might smile, or brush her hair behind her ear. Her hair had been securely tied since they started sparring, but she still felt like brushing it behind her ear.  
“I see.”  
Something awful occurred to her.  
“Is this also-”  
Isshin cut her off.  
“No! I have decided to enjoy your company because I enjoy your company. And because you can very nearly outdrink me.”  
“Very nearly! You-”  
He was laughing at her again.   
“So!” he roared.  
“So!” she roared back.   
“Lightning!” he screamed, and pounded his chest.  
She considered. This was monumentally stupid. She didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk. But he’d backed every single other one of his boasts up. While loudly proclaiming that he’d done so, usually. 

No. She couldn’t. This would risk everything, and for what? His approval? Disgusting. She had responsibilities. 

But maybe she could show him how stupid he was. She wouldn’t hit him. But she’d show him the Lightning of Tomoe. Then maybe he’d pretend he hadn’t been afraid, but she would be able to tell. And she could tear that smile off his scarred face.  
“Alright,” she said, and rushed him. He brought up his sword to block, but she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. She swung at his legs, near enough that he’d have to jump, then ducked under him. Now behind him, she spun, using her momentum to leap into the air, holding her sword aloft. She delayed for a moment, letting him turn to face her, letting him see her without being able to react.

Lightning struck. It crackled down her sword, and her arm fizzed. She felt like…she felt like a goddess. She loved this. She could always pretend she didn’t, even in the heat of battle. She could pretend this was a necessity, that in order to accomplish her task she needed it to be done and she took no pleasure in the act. But when lightning struck, there was no pretense. There was only fierce and impossible joy. 

She would throw it above his head. Her aim was good. Low enough to singe his hair, but not enough to kill him. He would see. He would see her, and he would understand he was only a man, and a man could never truly kill her. 

The air smelled of ozone. She had always thought of it as her smell. Idly, she wondered if he liked it. 

And then she swung her sword, loosing the bolt.

He didn’t cower, as men tended to. Not that she’d expected _him_ to. But he didn’t even flinch. 

Instead, he leapt. 

Directly into the path of the bolt. 

There was nothing she could do. They both hung in the air, her horrified, his face set, as lightning earthed itself in-

-his sword. 

It arced up the sword and around his body as he took a two-handed grip and chopped down with the same movement she’d seen before. He screamed defiance, his hair slipping free from its tie and floating around his head like a dark cloud. Lightning loosed itself from the sword and struck her in the chest. 

She dropped like a dead bird, her body convulsing as she hit the ground. 

The pain was staggering, even by her standards. She lost all awareness of anything other than her body, writhing and charring on the dirt of the training ground. Then, mercifully, she died. Just before her heart stopped beating, her eyes caught Isshin standing above her, his sword discarded. Her vision was darkening but she thought maybe he looked…concerned.

No. Stupid. 

Lord Takeru had helped her time it, and her resurrections usually took between forty-seven seconds and three minutes, fourteen seconds, depending on the seriousness of the injuries and how dismembered she was. She wasn’t conscious during this process, but she did have sense of time passing. It was essentially a very unpleasant nap. 

She awoke to find Isshin sitting next to her corpse, almost but not quite convincingly casual, his sword sheathed.  
“Good morning, Lady Tomoe.”  
He was grinning, of course. Of _course_. He was grinning wider and smugger than she’d ever seen him. He’d done what no one was supposed to be able to do and she knew right then and there he was never going to let her forget it. But there was something else in his eyes. Not respect, or rather, not only respect. She knew, despite what a basically annoying person he was, that he respected her. She saw that respect, but she also saw…reverence?

She would take that. She had never considered that leaving someone alive after you had summoned divine vengeance into your sword to strike them down meant they would always see you as that goddess. Just a little. 

She hoped.

Tomoe sat up.  
“ _Do it again_ ,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out im writing hets bc sometimes i want to write violent, belligerent sexual tension but i don't like it when girls are mean to each other
> 
> im so glad you could all be here for my important psychological breakthrough


	3. Angriest Woman Kisses Smuggest Man, Serving Only to Exacerbate Both Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i didn't write this
> 
> i am merely the vessel by which these idiots work out their awful murderous attraction to each other
> 
> i can't be held responsible for any of it

Tomoe had died fourteen times in the last month.

Twice, decapitated, because she was drunk and it seemed like fun. Six times, struck by lightning. That wasn’t getting old anytime soon. Five times, sliced up or dismembered in training bouts. And once, because she’d been admiring the view from Isshin’s tower and he thought it’d be funny to push her off the roof.

It had been kinda funny. It had been funnier dangling him from the same tower, and discovering as he struggled to maintain his composure, that he had a fear of heights. She made a mental note that if she ever did decide to kill him, to try to do it on a mountain or something. 

They were drunk. Again. If she was any judge, approximately three quarters of the way to the point where he would pass out and she would totter back to her rooms and pass out there. She always took a roundabout route to avoid any balconies because she knew if she fell off, he would find out and he would never stop making fun of her.  
“I’m figuring you out,” she said.  
“Pardon?” he said.  
“Your style. You’re alright-”  
“Alright? I’ve killed you-”  
“Yes, twelve times or whatever-”  
“Fourteen.”  
“Kinda weird you’re keeping count.”  
“I refuse to rise to that pathetic attempt to bait me.”  
“Okay, weirdo.”  
He didn’t react, which to her, was all the reaction she needed. She leaned back, hands behind her head. He continued drinking.  
“So like I said, you’re alright, but you’re not a god or anything. You have weaknesses.”  
“Every swordsman alive has weaknesses. That’s not a revelation to me.”  
“Yeah, and I know ‘em. You rely too much on reading an opponent’s emotions. Anyone with enough self-control could mislead you.”  
“So I am safe from you, is your point.”  
She threw an empty sake bottle at his head. He caught it in one hand without looking, and drank from the bottle in his other hand.  
“Maybe I’ve been putting on an act.”  
“An impressive act, for you to commit to losing constantly.”  
“I am not losing constantly.”  
“You’ve disarmed me _once_. Then you got complacent and I punched your eyeball clean out of your head.”  
“It is not complacency to assume a practice opponent would stop fighting after you knocked his sword away!”  
“It is to assume I would.”  
“You are the least pleasant man I’ve ever met.”  
“And yet you drink with me.”  
“Only because I haven’t been able to kill you.”  
Isshin spread his arms as if to ask ‘what are you waiting for?’ Tomoe raised her eyebrows, then laid down on the floor. Slowly, deliberately, she stretched out, then without warning, sprang to her feet and leapt towards Isshin. He tried to back away, but before he could react she had both hands around his neck. She took a moment to look him in the eye. Then another moment. Then a third, altogether too long moment. Her grip loosened, slightly. 

He coughed.  
“If I had a sword you’d be dead,” Tomoe said, finally.  
“But you didn’t have a sword. Seems poor planning on your part.”  
“The point,” she said, trying not to stare at the scar across his eye socket. “The point is I could have. You didn’t see it coming. Weakness. So there.”  
“Lady Tomoe,” Isshin said. “Were you intending to take your hands off my neck?”  
Awareness of the situation filtered in. Isshin was sitting on the floor, his hands behind him. She was straddling him and yes, her hands were still around his neck. He was looking up at her with a faintly curious expression. There was no fear in it at all, and since dangling him from his own balcony she knew exactly what he looked like when he was trying to mask fear. It wasn’t even the kind of fearlessness she’d seen on him when they first met, where he was confident he could kill her if he needed to. 

He…no.

Disgusting. Absolutely vile.

He knew she wouldn’t hurt him. He trusted her. 

Awful. She hated it. So she kissed him. 

He kissed back, immediately forcefully, and then suddenly, he went limp. His head lolled. Gently, she pulled back and released his neck. He collapsed backwards.

He’d passed out. 

Tomoe, for the first time, regretted that she couldn’t die. If she jumped off his balcony right now, she would be up again in forty-seven seconds to three minutes, fourteen seconds and she would _still remember this happening._

She wondered if she could excise the part of her brain that knew this had happened. If she stabbed herself just right, and then burned a small piece of her brain, maybe it wouldn’t come back. 

There was an easier way of doing that, at least. She found a not-yet-empty bottle, chugged it, and for good measure, took another one. Then she slunk back to her quarters by her usual route. She collapsed onto her bedroll and prayed to any god that might be listening that this had been a nightmare, and she would wake up at Lord Takeru’s estate having never met Isshin Ashina and his annoyingly perfect swordsmanship and his stupid scars.

\--o--

She woke up and moaned.

No.

No, no, no.

She remembered.

She remembered everything in horrific, excruciating detail. She wanted to be dead. She seriously considered killing herself to give her a minute away from this terrible knowledge. For the rest of her life, she would never be free from the knowledge that she had-

She had ki-

She hadn’t done anything! Nothing had happened! She had duties to attend to, and she needed to go decide what they were so she could attend to them.

\--o--

He caught up with her a week later. She didn’t know what she’d expected. They’d been sparring every two or three days since she’d arrived. She’d stayed away from the training grounds, but her sword arm had started to itch, so she went late at night to practice her forms. She missed having an opponent. Any opponent, really. Not necessarily one who could read her like a children’s book and had seen her lightning and lived. She didn’t need that. Anyone would do.

Anyone at all. 

She’d barely known he was there before she blocked his swing. As he went on the offensive, she kept blocking, but the blows seemed tentative somehow. 

Oh. He was used to her counterattacking by now. That was interesting. Maybe she could use-

She realized what was happening, who she was, who he was, and what had happened a week ago all at once. Her sword flew out of her hand, and she stumbled backwards. He pointed his sword at her, half an inch from her neck.  
“Yep, you win. Good for you!” she said, far too loudly. “Well, if you don’t mind, I need to go to bed!”  
His sword didn’t move.  
“You’re better than that. Are you well?”   
“Definitely! Just an off day, probably. That’s why I should get some sleep.”  
This was the least convincing she’d ever been in her life. It wouldn’t fool anyone. It certainly wouldn’t fool him.   
“You are hiding something from me,” he said.  
“Hiding?” she said. “Are you stupid?”  
“Perhaps. Perhaps I have been very stupid. Are you plotting against me, Lady Tomoe?”  
She gave him a look.   
“Why would-”  
“Because I awoke in my rooms to find you gone, which was usual. And you avoided me for a week, which was not. I am not certain what to think.”  
“Maybe I just didn’t want to spend time with you,” she said. This was more familiar ground. He was annoying her. That was good. If she was mad at him, she wouldn’t have to think about…anything else.  
“I-” he hesitated. For a microsecond, but she noticed it. “I have to assume that-” Again, an infinitesimal hesitation.   
“-any suspicious behaviour on your part is a threat. I will not tolerate threats.”  
“ _Suspicious?_ I-”

He didn’t remember. 

Oh, she hated this. 

He didn’t remember. He’d drunk more than her, she knew that. She’d been busy explaining to him how she was going to beat him, and he’d been steadily chugging away. She’d k-kissed him and he’d passed out right away and he hadn’t remembered. 

This was everything she’d wanted, except he’d taken her avoiding him to mean she was plotting to kill him or something. As if she’d ever plot to kill him. If she was going to kill him, he’d know. 

Or possibly, she considered, he was only using the plotting as a cover for the fact that she’d hurt his feelings.

She told that consideration to shut up.  
“I am not plotting against you,” she said.  
He stared her down.   
“I am not certain I believe you. You could lie to me if you wished.”  
She sighed.  
“I could.”  
He kept staring  
“And if I said I just didn’t want to see you?”  
“You said that already, and it was a lie. That would only prove that you are capable of deception.”  
“You are the most annoying man in this entire country.”  
His face didn’t change. It didn’t flicker, once. The eyebrow above his missing eye didn’t twitch. Not even a hair. She was seeing things.  
“Hmph,” he said. His sword was still almost brushing her neck. It didn’t waver. She closed her eyes.  
“Ughhhhhh,” she said. “And if I had an explanation?”  
“That would depend on your explanation.”  
“It’s a really good one, promise.”  
“Go on.”  
“You aren’t going to take my word for it? I promise it makes all this seem really silly.”  
“No.”  
“Gods. I really hate you, you know that?”  
He didn’t say anything.  
“I kissed you, you stupid man!”  
He did react to that. His eyebrows shot up, then he squinted at her. He dropped his sword. He didn’t lower it, he let it fall from his hand, clattering on the ground, and, abruptly, he sat cross-legged, hands on his knees. 

And he laughed.

She changed her mind, she was going to kill him.

He threw back his head and laughed, long and loud and obnoxious. He laughed longer than was seemly, longer than was even a little reasonable for how funny the situation was. Which it wasn’t. At all. It was the least funny thing that had ever happened to her.   
“Are you done?” she asked.  
“No,” he said, redoubling his efforts.  
“You don’t even find this that funny. You just know I’m in hell right now.”  
His response was to continue laughing.

Tomoe wasn’t sure if she wanted to bury herself or throw a lightning bolt at his head. He wasn’t holding his sword right now. He wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.   
“I wish you’d go back to threatening me,” she said.  
“Why, Lady Tomoe,” he said. “Why would I do that, when you’re far more fascinating than I ever could have hoped.”  
“I wish I was plotting to kill you.”  
“But you’re not, are you?”  
“…not right this second.”  
“You’re plotting to kiss me.”  
“I am not! I was very drunk and you’d let your guard down and-”  
“I do not let my guard down.”  
“You did!”  
“Lady Tomoe, if you wouldn’t mind filling me in on what exactly happened? You have me at somewhat of a disadvantage.”  
She told him. In as little detail as she could get away with, then with slightly more detail when he asked pointed questions.   
“Impressive,” he said. “A pity you weren’t holding a sword.”  
“Yeah! I’m starting to regret it!”  
“All the same. Hardly anyone has ever threatened me like that.”  
“You were very drunk.”  
“I’ve killed more than-”  
“Gods I do not care how many men you’ve killed while blind drunk. We’ve all killed a ton of men while blind drunk. You’re not special.”  
“Aren’t I?”  
“No!”  
“So I can’t expect a repeat performance, then?”  
“What, of me showing you how easily I could kill you? You can expect lots of those.”  
“Of the kiss.”  
Tomoe shut her mouth. She took a step backwards.   
“Wh- I- I don’t- you don’t-”  
Isshin waited, clearly amused.  
“I don’t know! What are you even talking about.”  
Very slowly, he raised one eyebrow.   
“I’m going to kill myself, and then I won’t have to look at you for a minute.”  
“Need help?” he asked.

Why was that flustering her.

There was no getting out of this, was there? He was just sitting there, radiating self-satisfaction. No matter what she did, he was going to keep smiling bigger and bigger until he was just a person-sized, horrible grin. Gods, she envied every person she’d ever killed. They’d never have to see him looking like that. 

She took a step forward.

Hang on, what?

She took another step forward, until she was standing above him.

That’s not what’s supposed to happen.

She placed a hand on each of his lapels, and hauled him to his feet, kissing him so violently their teeth clicked together. He let her take his weight, but his mouth was ferocious, biting, probing, sucking on her tongue in a way it was literally impossible for him to know she liked. This wasn’t fair. He couldn’t be good at this too.

Eventually, she pushed him away.  
“Happy now?” she asked.  
“Delighted,” he said. His smile was back.   
“Good,” she said. “Pick up your sword. I’m going to hit you so hard you won’t be able to walk, and then maybe we can do that some more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i think whatever that was is out of my system now but STAY FUCKIN TUNED just in case it isn't
> 
> god


End file.
